I'll Be Here in the Morning
by BlackBandit111
Summary: The fire escape is a little slippery. Jatherine. H/c.


_For Allysa Barnaba._

* * *

It's cold.

Snow delicately tumbles from the cloudy New York skies, snowflakes dancing their way down to determinedly stick to the ground, coating the roads and sidewalks and making the grey streets pearlescent under the gently glowing streetlamps. There is a pressing lightness in the silence of the late evening, and the city that never sleeps is, for once, resting peacefully.

That being said, there are very few stray wanderers outside on the streets; not even the Newsies have braved the cold for their papes.

That's probably for the best, Jack thinks as he blows a warm breath on to his frigid fingers, tucking them back into his jacket pockets. It doesn't do much- the jacket is so old that it's worn down to only a thin piece of fabric, and there are holes in the pockets that prevent Jack's fingers from staying warm.

There's probably about a foot of snow on the ground already because Jack's boots are sopping wet and heavy as he forcefully yanks them free from where they're lodged in the snow. He huffs and his hat slips off his head and into his eyes, and he realizes that snow has been collecting on the top of his head.

He's cold, and he's wet, and he's looking for Katherine.

Logically, he knows he probably shouldn't be out or truly concerned because she's probably at home and warm and not thinking about him, but he can't help it. There are too many 'probably's in that sentence for him to be completely comfortable with and hey, it's probably just as cold out here as it is for the boys in the Lodging House.

(He's lying to himself and he knows it, but he can't seem to stop.)

So he's trekking his way over to her apartment to check on her, just to be sure she's safe. He knows it's stupid and that he's risking hypo-what-a just being outside at all (especially in his worn, cheap clothing) but he can't find it in himself to turn around and head back.

(Besides, he's halfway there anyway, he reasons, and Katherine will probably let him in to warm him up.)

He stumbles through the quiet snow for an immeasurable amount of time before he spots Katherine's apartment building through the swirling white, and he's eager enough to get out of the cold that he decides to use the front door.

When he goes to open it with blue fingers, he finds he locked. He knocks.

(He doesn't wait around for long, but he suspects there was no answer.)

So he shoves his hands back into his pockets and hauls his frozen body around the side of the building, pulling down the freezing ladder to the fire escape. IHe begins his climb up the stairs, slower than usual because he has to sweep snow out of his way with his foot to see the steps.

Usually he's more careful- he usually grabs each railing with one of his hands and boosts himself, so if he falls he has something to hold on to- but it's cold and it's snowing and he's freezing and tired, so he doesn't.

He's almost at her apartment when he takes the step that bests him; his foot slips on a patch of dark, slick ice, sending him careening; he jerks his arms to throw them out to grapple for something but they're caught in his pockets and he's falling, falling-

He tumbles head over heel down the stairs, flashes of white blinding him as he smashes his back into stair after stair; he regrets sweeping away so much snow now, it might have broken his fall; his arms whip free from where they're caught and slap against the railings, his legs twisting-

He finally hits the landing on his back, and his head slams into the metal gratings.

Jack lays motionless, his arms spread, hands in the snow, and his legs folded awkwardly under him, snowflakes clinging to the lashes of closed lids.

When he comes back to himself, he's not uncomfortable.

He can't remember what happened, really, he only knows that he fell and now he's staring up at a snow filled sky. He's okay, if not a bit wet, and the air is cold but the back of his neck is warm...wetter than his hands maybe? He doesn't know and really isn't in the mood to check, so he just lies there in silence.

He's actually really tired, now that he's finally stopped and thought about it…

"Jack?"

He's sure the boys won't mind if he just sleeps a bit...he can sell back what he doesn't make…

"Jack, please...up; I...help...leave you here-"

Katherine helped them do that, sell the papes back...With the strike…

"Jack, wake...without...knowing...lucid-"

Why not? He just needed some sleep…

"...ack, _Jack!"_

It's the shrillness of this scream that snaps him out of it, and he struggles to open his eyes, which feel like they're frozen shut. He grits his teeth and devotes all his energy to this, his eyelids twitching, and the voice inquires unsteadily "Jack?"

He tries to grunt but isn't sure if it comes out as more of a whimper, but the rustling (there was rustling?) stills, and he feels a warm, smooth hand pushing back his curls.

"Jack, can you hear me? It's Katherine."

That's right; he'd been trying to get to Katherine's...has he made it?

"It's okay, Jack. I'm going to get you up and into my apartment, and then I'll call a doctor." Her voice is wavering.

Oh no, is she upset? Did he do something? A doctor? Why does he need a doctor? He isn't in pain or anything.

"It's going to be okay, Jack."

He finally finds the energy to speak and chokes, "A-Ace-"

"Oh Jack, don't _move- _please don't move-"

"Ace- wha-"

"Oh- Oh _God_, Jack, please don't move-" She sounds frantic and tearful and upset, and he doesn't know what to do, torn between listening to her and comforting her. He's not sure which is better in this situation, but the quiet desperation in her tone makes him go still, and the palpable panic that radiates from her eases a bit, so he remains still.

"Jack, what happened, why are you- nevermind, oh _God_, I- uh- I can't leave you here I need _help-_"

His eyes still refuse to open (he reckons his eyelashes have frozen shut) but he still tries, even though he doesn't have much success.

"Jack, I know you probably hurt a lot right now, but I need you to help me out here," Katherine's voice comes from his right, and he thinks he might grunt (or, well, whimper, but he can't be bothered right now) but it's only because he _knows _what she wants him to do. "I need you to help me out, okay? Can you move?"

Sure, he can move.

Doesn't mean he wants to. Or is gonna.

But then he can hear the exasperation and the _desperation _in her tone, and although he doesn't even have enough energy to lift his lids, he knows he has to try. "Please, Jack."

So he drags his aching body up and stumbles along, his legs numb and his back strangely achy. It's not enough to really hurt, though, so he remains quiet, only letting out a huffy breath when he slips a little on a patch of ice, but Katherine steadies him.

After what seems like an eternity but is probably only around five minutes, Katherine helps Jack clamber through her window after her, almost falling face first onto the floor if not for his girlfriend supporting his shoulders.

When he blearily catches sight of her creased face, he wonders if she's concerned about how he's too heavy to carry to the couch or about how he's not heavy to carry at all, but before he can actually make it out in his head he's laying in bed, and-

Wait, in bed? He shouldn't be laying in her bed; it's hers, and not his, and he can't just invade her house like this- he can walk, honest, because he ain't a scabber he's a newsboy, and he led the strike and- and-

"Alright, Jack. It's all okay."

-And her voice is incredibly soothing, and something cool but _nice _dabs at his head and takes away the pain he didn't know he had, whisking with it any and all reason to stay awake.

"Oh, please don't sleep-"

But her voice does nothing to call him back; instead it actually lulls him further, and he feels safe and warm and comfortable and- and-

"Jack Kelly, don't you dare even consider falling asleep on me," she growls, and her tone is angry and warning and _bad, he's done something bad_ to make her upset like this so he needs to _listen _to her _now__**, **_so he wrenches his eyes open and tries his best not to think about how comfortable he is or how warm or how nice it feels being cared for.

Her smile is as radiant as the sun, and it makes his lips quirk.

"That's the Jack Kelly I know," she almost croons in his ear, and he feels so full and content despite the pain he almost feels he could burst.

He's left alone for a time- he doesn't know how long, only that he can't sleep and Katherine is gone- before she's smoothing back his curls again that are plastered to his forehead because they're wet still and he can hear someone else's footsteps, rousing himself just enough to make sure it's a friend, not a threat.

He doesn't recognize the elderly man who is holding a huge bag, but he figures if Katherine isn't shaking him awake in a panic that someone broke into her house, it's safe.

"So you're Jack, eh?" The man says as he perches on the edge of the couch, and Jack isn't sure if the tone is leering (because hell, he is a little known, and in some people's eyes infamous) or warm, so he settled for staying quiet. "It's not an insult, son," the physician adds, so Jack lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and nods.

"Let's see what we have here," the man murmurs, and Jack just closes his eyes. He is so_, so _tired.

"I know you're tired; you're slightly hypothermic and you've got a nasty hit to your head there," the man informs like he's talking about the weather, "but you really need to stay awake right now, okay? Just until I'm finished checking you over. I'm sorry Ms. Plumber, but could you be a dear and maybe submerge his fingers in warm water? Not too hot, now-"

"Of course, of course-" Jack can hear her hurry from the room, and silence reigns when she exits.

Until the man says conversationally, "so Jack, I hear you lead the Newsies strike."  
Jack really isn't in the mood for a conversation right now (he really just wants to sleep) but he figures that that's probably why the man began it in the first place, and so he does his best to get his tongue working. "Yeah," he murmurs, and his mouth feels like it isn't moving.

"How was that? Frightening?" The man says, and there's a pull on the skin at the back of his head, like maybe it's being stitched. Jack can't really feel it; he's very numb, but his brain feels like it's pulsing.

"Mm," he hums in agreement, deciding that the pulling sensation is uncomfortable but not painful.

"Almost done here, then I can move onto your arm," the physician mutters, and Jack can hear the snipping sound of scissors on string. It's too much effort to open his eyes right now, so he's relying mostly on his hearing, which is pretty much the only sense he has right now, seeing as his fingers are numb.

The doctor has just started patting away the blood on Jack's arm when Katherine returns with two pots of warm water, gently sliding Jack's hands into them. He sighs as a hurt he didn't know he had ebbs away and prickles and needles take its place, but it's better than that horrible iciness that was spreading through his hands anyhow.

He's slowly becoming aware of how much pain he's actually in; his head aches something fierce, like the Newsboys decided to throw another strike inside. His whole body throbs in time with his heartbeat, but it's mostly his left arm, right knee, and right ankle that are giving him the most grief.

He becomes vaguely aware of the stitching going on on his arm and the burning sensation of it being cleaned, but he feels very...floaty, and wonders if they've given him anything for the pain or if it's just his head injury getting to him. He registers that his ankle is elevated and that he's shivering like mad, trembling limbs aggravating all of his hurts at once.

He can't seem to help the whimper that escapes as the physician wraps his knee and ankle and tells Katherine in a voice considerably softer than usual, "wake him occasionally, but he can sleep- if he doesn't wake call me immediately", and walking out the door, and that Katherine has thrown another blanket over him.

"A-A-A-Ace," he chatters at her, and she feels his forehead and her hand is blessedly cold against his burning skin. "'M c-c-c-cold."

"Makes sense," Katherine murmurs. "You've just come back from being hypothermic and you've got a nice fever." She runs her fingers through his hair and _wow, that's nice._

She gently takes his hands out of the water and holds them between both of her palms, rubbing at them softly and making them ever warmer. He's freezing though, and this doesn't do much for his shakes that are truly making his whole body jolt.

"A-A-A-Ace," he says with his teeth chattering again, ""M c-c-cold-d-d."

Katherine sighs, and in one swift movement has pulled back all the layers covering him, exposing him to the frigid air. He curls in automatically on himself and tries to struggle feebly when she makes his spread out again, but then her body, her _incredibly warm _body presses up against him, and he settles and curls into that instead.

He's feeling sleepy again almost immediately and presses his nose to her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of whatever tea she was drinking before she found him, the smell of her soap, and something distinctly _Katherine _that makes him giddy on the inside.

"Ace?" He murmurs, his eyelids fluttering as he tries to open them and fails, but she just kisses his cheek softly and rests it on his shoulder, holding him close.

"Go to sleep, Jack Kelly," she whispers. "I'll be here in the morning."

And he drifts off, content with the fact that Katherine is by his side.

* * *

_Alright! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and please leave me a comment on your thoughts!_


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